As I get older, less things surprise me.

Almost six decades going around the sun alongside a vivid and active imagination prepares me for most things.

So, when I opened the curtains on Friday morning and found myself in a winter wonderland, I was gobsmacked.

Neither Dan the weatherman nor the Norwegians at the usually reliable Yr.no had told us this was coming, yet here it was; three inches of snow in September. 

Recent memory is always the strongest, but I think this was the second heaviest dump I’ve seen in my 30 years in Central. 

Certainly, the plans for the morning went out the window as I joined the council team in doing what needs done at times like this. 

The comms team worked away at getting reliable messaging out on the roads and power, contact was made with Aurora to see where they were at, our elderly persons housing residents were rung, and river levels were checked.

As mayor, my phone started ringing with national media wanting to talk about what was happening. 

Everything ran as smooth as silk and in effect, it was a good practice run for when something really goes wrong.

It wasn’t an easy day for many.

Thoughts and kudos to the lines people who got most of the power back on remarkably quickly, and to the farmers and fruit growers who were impacted by what occurred. 

In amongst it all, I remembered to take a moment and walked into our backyard, lifted my face to feel the snow fall on it, felt and heard the snow scrunch under my boots and marvelled at the muffled stillness of it all.

There’s nothing like a snow day to make you feel like a kid again I reckon.